


first position: waltz of the flowers

by unculturedegg



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen, Ice Skating, THERE ISN'T ENOUGH SOLO YURI PLISETSKY CONTENT AND I'M ANGRY ABOUT IT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 06:03:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8612074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unculturedegg/pseuds/unculturedegg
Summary: he had been telling himself since he’d stuffed his clothes into his travel bag and boarded the plane home that it had to be some kind of coincidence, some fluke, some inconceivable mistake, but as he stared down at the glittering ice, he knew it wasn’t.there was no other outcome than this, and somewhere deep inside, he’d known it from the moment he’d stepped out onto yuuri’s rink.





	

when he closed his eyes, he was back in japan, standing behind the divider and watching his career-- no, his _everything_ \-- slipping away, down into the deep cuts yuuri katsuki’s skates made on the ice beneath his gliding feet.

viktor’s eyes were shining with absolute adoration as his new protegee twirled, stepped, and reached toward the audience in a painfully beautiful display. 

he opened his eyes again. he had been telling himself since he’d stuffed his clothes into his travel bag and boarded the plane home that it had to be some kind of coincidence, some fluke, some _inconceivable mistake,_ but as he stared down at the glittering ice, he knew it wasn’t. 

there was no other outcome than this, and somewhere deep inside, he’d known it from the moment he’d stepped out onto yuuri’s rink. 

now, in russia, on the ice he’d called home for the majority of his career, the lights overhead shone only on him. here, gliding across the freshly smoothed ice, _he_ was his only competition, and _he_ was the only conceivable winner. 

he pressed play on the music he’d selected for this evening. it was his grandfather’s favorite, and one he’d loved dancing across their living room to since he’d received his first pair of skates. 

as the various instruments rose to life in his ears, his hands rose toward the sky and drifted downward in a beautiful, lazy arch. he took a slow breath before kicking off one foot, pulling himself into a biellmann spin and allowing the momentum of his motions to accompany the fluttering harps as they brought the introduction to a close. 

his fingers touched the ice as he slowed, still balanced on one foot, and silence engulfed the rink. he began his first few circuits around the ice on cue with the music’s return; brackets to the swells and dips of the song’s movement, tiny, fleeting steps and skips to the clarinets. 

there was no pressure here, no losing, and he allowed his eyes to flutter closed, feet leading him across familiar ice and through the familiar movements. he would gain momentum, jump, and then land, motions as effortless as the ebb and flow of the music. 

he continued until he knew the song was heading toward its end; the lightness that bubbled up in his chest seemed to sink all at once, and as the tempo increased as did his tricks, his speed, his recklessness. 

he felt as though he were running, just a hair’s breadth away from the safety he’d known since the start of his career. it was so tantalizingly _close,_ as the music reached its peak, and his eyes shot open as he flung his arms outward, desperately reaching for something. 

something that felt like warm kisses against raw red cheeks, wiping away tears, surprises, bandaged knees, baking gingerbread, and home. 

the last note sounded in his ears all too quickly, and his fingers clasped at the empty, cold air. tears welled up in his eyes, and as he blinked himself back to reality, they fell. 

he sank down slowly and allowed his head to fall back against the ice with a soft thud. it was cold against his sweating, heated body, and he let his eyes close, the tears still sliding down his face and mingling with the ice he’d kicked up earlier. 

his chest was heavy. he barely felt the cold wetness seeping through to his skin, but it was there in his bones, had been there since he’d taken his first step off the plane. 

aside from the air conditioning unit buzzing from somewhere to his left, he was alone.


End file.
